The Stooges Knead The Dough
by Teobi
Summary: The boys become bakers and find themselves entangled in the family problems of their new friend Matilda. No sap or schmaltz, except where I think it mirrors what might happen in an actual Three Stooges short. The boys were clumsy and inept, but they never turned away from anyone in need. Update: OK, I'll confess. Moe gets a dame. :-)
1. Chapter 1

**Wowsers, I never knew writing Stooges fics could be so much fun! A big Stooge slap to you all, with affection of course!  
At the end of Pipe Down Stooges, Moe was thinking about them becoming bakers. You don't have to read Pipe Down Stooges in order to 'get' this one, because like all the Stooges shorts, there's no continuity whatsoever. (Or plot, come to that.)**

**Also, because I've always thought Moe Howard was a sweetheart, I've given him a _tiny_ bit of a 'love interest'. Now, don't get alarmed. It won't be weird and it certainly won't be schmaltzy. (Moe Howard? Schmaltzy? GET OUTTA HERE! **slapp**)**

**(Oh, and I have _shamelessly _stolen the checkers joke from Gilligan's Island. Credit where credit is due.)**

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**The Stooges Knead the Dough**

**Chapter 1**

In the centre of a busy city street, tucked in between a Mercantile Store and an Antique Furniture Shop, stood a pretty little patisserie called 'Beautiful Buns'. The storefront was homely and welcoming and the doorway was bracketed by hanging baskets full of colourful flowers. It had been designed to resemble a gingerbread house from an old fairytale, and the warm aroma of freshly baked bread with a hint of cinnamon wafting from the inhouse bakery only added to the quaintness of it all. It was like a little oasis of calm in the middle of an urban sprawl full of tooting cab horns and delivery wagon horses clopping by.

Moe stood outside on the pavement, staring up at the hand painted sign with its decorative, swirly lettering. His smile was genuine, there was a look of wonder on his face. Curly and Larry stood just a little ways behind him on the kerb, mirroring Moe's look of wonderment and awe.

"Well, boys, look at it," Moe said, almost dreamily. "Isn't it a beauty?"

"Yeah," said Larry. "Just what we always dreamed of."

Moe looked as if he were about to drift off into a trance. Until Curly opened his mouth.

"So when are we gonna get one just like it?"

Moe's smile instantly flipped over into a murderous frown. He threw his fist up and back and bopped Curly right in the middle of his forehead without even having to look. "Be quiet, birdbrain," he muttered. Then he did the same to Larry on the other side. "You too, Porcupine. Just in case you were thinkin' about it." While Curly and Larry rubbed their heads, Moe pointed to a small sign taped to the inside of the main window, just next to the door. "See that sign? It says 'Help Wanted. Apply Within. And that's exactly what we're gonna do."

"Write signs?" asked Curly.

Moe turned around slowly and faced Curly head on. Curly twiddled his fingertips a little nervously. "I'll write _you_ a sign," Moe told him. "You know what it'll say?"

"'She Sells Seashells by the Seashore'?" Curly suggested.

"Why would it say that?" Moe moved nearer, his chin thrust out in anger.

"Because it's long enough to give me time to get away," Curly answered, edging backwards.

Moe snorted in derision. "'Empty', is what it's gonna say, and you know where I'm gonna put it?"

"On your piggy bank?" Curly offered.

"Right _here_," Moe retorted, and smacked Curly upside the head with a loud crack.

Leaving Curly to his indignant shuffling on the edge of the kerb, Moe threw a friendly arm around Larry's shoulder and waved his hand towards the door of the cosy little bakery. "Shall we, Mr. Fine?"

"I believe we shall, Mr. Howard," Larry replied, happy not to be on the receiving end of Moe's wrath, for once.

The interior of the patisserie was just as pretty as the exterior. There were four small wooden tables covered with gingham tablecloths for customers who chose to eat in. There were shelves behind the glass fronted counter, all laden with fresh baked loaves of bread and exquisitely decorated cakes. Behind the glass wall of the counter there were doughnuts and cupcakes and pastries in all assortments and sizes. All three Stooges felt their mouths begin to water and their stomachs growl audibly.

"May I help you?" The female voice that came from the doorway leading into the back of the shop was rather snooty. The hungry Stooges looked up and noticed the proprietress staring at them rather stonily. She was a very tall, stoutly set middle-aged lady with a perfectly coiffed hairdo that was not so much gray as slightly purple. She wore a string of pearls around her neck and was dressed extremely elegantly, despite the spotless apron she wore over her carefully tailored suit jacket.

"I think the question is, Madame, 'may _we _help _you_?'" Moe said, attempting to sound professional about it.

The woman looked Moe up and down, and clearly didn't like what she saw. "No tradesmen," she said, bluntly. "Please leave, and take whatever wares you're selling with you." She tried to return to the backroom, but Moe kept going.

"I do believe you misunderstood me," he insisted. "We're here about the sign. In your window."

"The sign?"

"Yeah. The sign. See?" Moe pointed at the window.

"Yeah, see the sign we saw? " said Curly. "Hey!" he grinned. "See saw!" He began humming and swaying. "see saw...see saw..."

Moe watched him for a few moments and then slapped him across the face. "I'll handle this," he said, gruffly.

"Ah yes. The sign." The woman sighed, wearily. "Well, if that's what you're here about, then tell me. What experience do you have in bread making?"

"I got plenty experience in bread _eatin_'," Larry said, rubbing his stomach gleefully.

Moe slapped Larry across the face. "Don't make a show of yourself," he grumbled. Turning back to the woman, he pasted on his cheesiest grin. "Lady, just show us the flour and the yeast and before long you'll be up to your eyeballs in bread."

"Are you saying you're fast workers?" the woman began to look impressed at last.

"Fast? Why, we're so fast it takes us a day to catch up with ourselves," Moe beamed, proudly.

"Yeah, we can undo the work of ten men in five minutes," Curly proclaimed.

"If there are corners to be cut, we'll cut 'em!" Larry grinned. "And how!"

"Very well," the woman said. "I'm in no position to argue. I lost two of my staff yesterday and I desperately need the help."

"Where'd you lose 'em?" Curly asked, looking around. "Maybe they're under the table!" He got down on his hands and knees and crawled under the nearest table. "Nope! Not under here!"

Moe leaned down and gave Curly a backhanded slap on his rotund hind quarters. "Get out from under there, you imbecile."

Curly stood up and banged his head on the underside of the table. The table wobbled and the little decorative vase of flowers rolled off and smashed on the floor.

"I'll deduct that from your first week's wages," the woman said in disdain.

Curly struggled to his feet. "Oh, ungrateful, eh?" He squinted purposefully at the woman, then barked loudly at her. "**RUFF**!"

The woman recoiled in disgust. "Does _he_ have to come along?" she muttered.

"Why, sure," said Moe. "He's my right hand man. See my right hand?" And he dealt Curly such a stinging slap that the woman's hairdo visibly ruffled from the sound wave.

The woman hefted another sigh. She was clearly unhappy and her sigh was loud and purposeful. "Very well, I _suppose_ you will have to do. The working day is about to begin and any minute now I'll be swamped with customers. I'm Mrs. Forshaw, the owner of 'Beautiful Buns'. Come on in the back and meet Matilda. You'll be working with her."

At the sound of a female name, Curly's eyes lit up and he started panting like a dog. "Oh, boy! A dame!" He lunged forward as if to follow hot on Mrs. Forshaw's heels but was held back by Moe, who shot out his hand and grabbed Curly by the earlobe.

"Where do you think you're goin', flathead?" he growled. "You know we ain't got time for dames. Besides, dames are nothin' but trouble."

"Yeah," agreed Larry. "All they do is order you around, and I won't stand for it!"

"Me neither," said Moe, nodding at Larry.

Mrs. Forshaw turned and glared at them coldly. "I do not condone shilly shallying among my staff! Come into the kitchens _at once_!"

"Yes, Ma'am!" said Moe and Larry in unison, scurrying meekly after the woman, with Moe still dragging Curly by the ear.

The back of the shop was a different story altogether from the front of the shop. The kitchen was small and cluttered and uncomfortably hot, with several ovens all on the go at once. Steam rose from the large industrial sink where cooking implements were either drying, soaking in hot water, or waiting to be washed. Baking trays, spoons, bowls and pans littered every available work surface and there was a steady sound of _chunka-chunka-chunka _coming from somewhere, as various machines diligently stirred cake and bread mixtures with large rotating blades. Clouds of flour billowed up and reduced visibility just enough so that the three Stooges had to squint through the haze to see everything that was going on. As the flour began to clear, a small, lone figure could be made out in the middle of all the paraphernalia. It was apparent that this was the only person in the kitchen, and she was doing everything by herself.

"This is Matilda, my niece," said Mrs. Forshaw. "Matilda, dear, come and meet the..." again she looked the Stooges up and down, pointedly showing her distaste for their rumpled clothes and untidy appearance, "..._gentlemen_ who will be working with you."

As Matilda came forward through the haze, Moe pointed his finger at Curly. "Now mind your manners, you," he warned, and then flicked his finger upwards, catching Curly sharply on the end of his nose. Curly squawked in pain and pointed back at Moe. Moe grabbed Curly's finger and bent it back until it cracked. Curly squawked even louder. Moe shoved his best angry expression right in Curly's face.

"Moe! Moe! Moe! Ow! Ow! Ow!"

"Shaddaaaaap!"

Matilda was standing right in front of them now, waiting patiently for the Stooges' antics to end. Finally Mrs. Forshaw cleared her throat and both Curly and Moe stopped bickering and turned around.

"N'yee-ah-ah-argh," exclaimed Curly.

Matilda smiled shyly. She wasn't a young girl, but she certainly wasn't as old or imperious as Mrs. Forshaw. It was hard to guess at her age since her hair was coated white with flour, but her face was unlined and her green eyes were bright and she was able to hold Curly's gaze while she smiled with what seemed like genuine amusement.

"This is..." Mrs. Forshaw began to introduce the Stooges and then stopped. "I'm afraid I don't know your names."

"That's because you never asked for 'em, queenie," Curly said, waggling his fingers at Mrs. Forshaw. "Hiya, Toots," he said to Matilda. "I'm Curly, and these are my reknowned accomplices, Moe and Larry."

"It's nice to meet you," Matilda smiled. She held out her hand and Curly took it daintily, lifting it towards his lips as though he might kiss it. Instead, a hand came out of nowhere and slapped him on the cheek.

"Ow!" cried Curly, dropping Matilda's hand and rubbing at his face.

"Please excuse my friend here," said Moe, taking Matilda's hand. "When he was a baby, the doctor couldn't tell which end was which."

Matilda looked as though she might laugh, but a quick glance at the stern visage of her Aunt made her hold it in. "And you are?"

"Moe," said Moe. He found himself looking into her eyes and suddenly realised he didn't know what else to say. Luckily, Larry butted in and saved him from lapsing into a very uncharacteristic silence.

"And I'm Larry." The bushy haired Stooge grinned goofily and spoke in a sort of sing song drawl, eager to impress.

"It's lovely to meet you, Larry." Matilda attempted to shake Larry's hand, but her own hand was still attached to Moe's. Meanwhile, Moe had gone completely quiet and was just standing there like a statue.

"Hey, what's up with Moe?" asked Curly. "He looks half-baked!"

"Yeah!" said Larry. "He looks like he lost a quarter and found a dime!"

Curly and Larry waved their hands in front of Moe's face, snapping their fingers in rapid succession. "Nuthin's woikin'!" cried Curly.

Larry picked up a large wooden spoon. "Stand back!" he said. "For King and Country!" And he whacked Moe right in the middle of the head with the spoon.

Moe came back to life and shook his head. Flour erupted from his bangs as he blinked and reoriented himself. When he realised he was still holding tightly onto Matilda's hand, he began to blush and stammer. "Excuse me, miss," he blustered. "I don't know what came over me." He let go of Matilda's hand and took the spoon away from Larry. "Thank you, Larry," he said.

"You're welcome," replied Larry.

Moe turned the spoon this way and that, pretending to study it carefully. "You know, this looks like it was made from the wood of the Lignum Vitae tree. It's the hardest wood in the world. Unbreakable."

"Really?" said Larry, leaning forward for a closer look.

"Yeah," said Moe, narrowing his eyes. "Wanna see?"

"Sure!" said Larry.

Moe slapped him between the eyes with the flat end of the spoon and the spoon broke. "Guess I was wrong," he declared.

"Gentlemen!" Mrs. Forshaw cried, her hand flying to her mouth. "Such brutality!"

"Yeah, and if I didn't keep 'em in line, there's no tellin' what they'd do!" Moe said, nodding.

"I meant _you_!" the older woman tutted.

"I'm a victim of my own upbringing," Moe told her. "My mother used to beat me, my father used to beat me, my brother used to beat me, even my sister used to beat me, and she was only five."

"But that's terrible!" cried Matilda, putting her hand gently on Moe's arm.

"How else was I going to learn how to play checkers?" said Moe.

"Now stop this foolishness!" Mrs. Forshaw said, finally. "'Beautiful Buns' opens in three minutes and I must have you all working as fast as you can! I have a reputation to maintain!"

"Don't worry, angel, we'll make you the talk of the town!" Curly said, giving Mrs. Forshaw a quick salute.

"Yeah, by the end of the week, your 'Beautiful Buns' will be on everyone's lips!" said Larry with a big, beaming grin, just before Moe wiped it off his face with a furious glare.

"That's as may be," Mrs. Forshaw said to Larry, "but know this one thing. I'm very proud of 'Beautiful Buns'. I've worked very hard to reach where I am today. People come from all over the city just to buy from me and my bread sells like hot cakes!"

"And what do your hot cakes sell like?" asked Curly.

Moe slapped him.

"What?" pouted Curly. "It was a good question!"

"'_What do your hot cakes sell like_'. Of all the stupid..." Moe went silent and started thinking about it.

Mrs. Forshaw turned on her sensible heeled, patent leather shoes and left the kitchens, shaking her head and sighing harder than ever before. As soon as she was out of sight, Matilda shocked the Stooges by pulling a face and sticking her tongue out behind her Aunt's back.

"What was that for?" Moe asked, genuinely taken aback.

"That was for _her_," Matilda said, crossly. "The way she talks to the customers, you would think she was the only one doing all the work around here."

Moe's eyes widened. "Well, that ain't fair," he mused.

"No, it ain't...I mean, it _isn't _fair," Matilda agreed. "Oh, I don't want to come over sounding all ungrateful or anything, but Aunt Agnes doesn't appreciate anything anyone does for her. My Uncle Edward started this shop, and when he was in charge it was a wonderful place. But now, nobody stays employed here for long. Except me."

"So why have _you_ stayed here so long?" Moe asked.

Matilda lowered her eyes and looked away. "Because... because I'm scared of her. Ever since Uncle Edward passed away, she's run this place with a rod of iron. She's terribly strict and very disapproving and I'm too frightened to leave."

"Oh, a sheltered life, eh?" said Curly.

"Did you have a sheltered life, too?" Matilda asked, hopefully.

"Sure! That's where I was born! In a shelter! Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk...**OOF**!" Curly gasped out loud as Moe's fist landed squarely in the middle of his diaphragm.

"Do you have to hit him?" asked Matilda.

"Yes, I do," said Moe.

Above the noises of the kitchen, the Stooges and Matilda all heard a bell suddenly ring out from the front of the shop.

"Quick! Get to work!" hissed Matilda. She shoved Moe and a still gasping Curly towards Larry and bundled them all over to the sink. "The shop's open and the customers will already be lined up outside. Sometimes we're sold out even before lunch, and we need to keep the stock turning over or Aunt Agnes will blow her top!"

"Whaddya want us to do?" asked Moe, still unable to tear his gaze away from Matilda's bright green eyes.

"One of you wash, one of you load the ovens and one of you unload them," Matilda said, scurrying over to her own workstation. "I'll handle the mixing and the decorating."

"You got it," said Moe. He squared his shoulders and puffed out his chest as though Matilda had made him her chief Lieutenant. "Right, you, get washin'," he told Curly, pushing Curly almost headlong into the sink. "You, Porcupine, you load the ovens, and I'll take everything out. We don't want Matilda getting into more trouble than she already is." He noticed Matilda flinch, and hesitated. "That is, I don't mean..."

"It's all right," Matilda said, sadly. "It's my own fault, the trouble I'm in. I've never had the courage to stand up to her."

Moe and Larry exchanged a look of sympathy. "An underdog, eh,"said Moe. "Well, don't worry, Matilda. If you think you have troubles now, it'll be all over by the end of the week!"

Matilda looked over at Moe and smiled warmly and Moe's granite heart began to melt around the edges...just a little. "Thank you," she said, softly. "I think."

_to be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

**Every day I fall more and more in love with the Stooges. And Stooge fans are the most awesome of people. Thanks for all the reviews so far. LH, ta for the word 'gorgon', (love ya, you imbecile!) and ggirl1710 for encouraging me - even if you didn't know it was happening :) OK so here's chappie 2, I hope you like it. Poor Moe, he's all a-fluster... (Note: I fixed where I called Matilda 'Miranda' a couple of times for some reason. Sorry 'bout that!)**

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**Chapter 2**

"So what happened to the other kids who worked here?" Moe's tone was light and conversational as he slid a tray full of freshly baked cupcakes out of the oven. He tried not to show how hungry he was as he set it down on the counter next to Matilda. The heat of the tray went through his padded gloves and he waggled his fingers to try and cool them off, trying desperately to ignore the warm, delicious aroma of the cakes. It was all he could do not to grab a handful of the delicacies and shove them into his mouth all at once.

"Well," said Matilda, picking up a tube of pink frosting, "Mary was fired because Aunt Agnes said her gingerbread tasted like cardboard, and Edith left because Aunt Agnes wouldn't allow her to visit her poor mother in the hospital."

Moe's eyes widened and he shook his mop-topped head in disbelief. "Why, that's just _terrible_!"

"I know, she was simply inconsolable."

"I meant about the gingerbread," Moe corrected her. "I mean, I'm sure it wasn't _that_ bad. Believe me, sweetheart, I know what cardboard tastes like." He saw the way Matilda was looking at him and began backtracking. "Ah, that is to say, it's a real shame Edith couldn't go and visit her poor mother in the hospital. Ah, how is her poor mother, anyway?" He squared his shoulder defensively, expecting the worst.

"Oh, she's fine," Matilda smiled. "She only broke her toe." Matilda resumed squeezing pink frosting onto the cupcakes. Moe blinked a couple of times, shaking his head to reorientate himself. As he did so, he noticed Curly elbow deep in a mountain of soap suds, humming merrily while he washed pots and pans, mixing bowls and baking trays and noisily stacked them into a precarious pile next to the sink. Moe slowly pulled his gloves off one by one, threw them onto the counter with a flourish and stalked across the tiny kitchen to the sink.

"What's the big idea makin' all these bubbles?" he growled.

"I didn't make them, they made themselves!" Curly said, quite reasonably. "All I did was this, look!" He reached for the plastic gallon jug of soapy liquid and poured another slug of it into the hot water. In seconds, even more bubbles were billowing up, almost obscuring Curly from view altogether. "I'm a fairy in the clouds!" he trilled.

"Well, get back down to earth, Tinkerbell!" Moe's fist connected with Curly's ample stomach and then shot up and connected with Curly's forehead.

"Ow-oof!" Curly cried. He lunged at Moe, snapping his teeth together. Moe poked him in the eyes. Curly slapped his hands rapidly over his face and pointed his finger up into Moe's face. "Why, I oughta ..."

"You oughta what?" Moe challenged. He leaned towards Curly with his eyes glittering and his jaw set like concrete.

Curly changed his mind quickly. "I oughta get back to woik! No time for shilly shallying, remember? Na na neeeeeeee, na na naaaaaaa..."

Moe picked up a newly washed ladle and clonked Curly on the back of the head for good measure. "No more bubbles, Bubblehead."

In the next moment, all three Stooges plus Matilda were brought sharply to attention by Agnes Forshaw, who appeared in the kitchen doorway like the Grim Reaper's grimmer sister. "What on earth is the hold up in here?" she demanded. "My customers are waiting! I need more loaves, cakes, pies and buns!"

"Loaves, cakes, pies and buns!" Moe repeated, pointing his finger at the ceiling.

"Not to mention pastries, flapjacks, sweets and puffs!"

"Pastries, flapjacks, sweets and puffs!" Moe echoed.

Mrs. Forshaw glared at him. "Well?"

"Well what?" said Moe, raising one eyebrow at her.

"Well, don't just stand there, do the work I'm paying you to do! Although whether I actually end up paying you at all, depends on whether your work is up to my very high standards. The proof is in the pudding, as they say." Mrs. Forshaw finished her little speech with a loud harrumph and returned quickly to her beloved shop.

"Why, the nerve of that woman," Moe muttered. "I'd like to put the proof in _her _pudding. Overproof, and plenty of it!" Neither Curly or Larry were close enough for him to slap, so he had to make do with clenching and unclenching his fists and rubbing his hand roughly over his jaw to try and loosen the tension in his face.

"Believe me, that's nothing," said Matilda, smiling sadly. "You'll soon get used to being treated like a crumb on the floor, there for no other reason than to be swept up or stepped on."

"Or eaten by a mouse!" Curly piped up.

"Shaddap or I'll mouse you," barked Moe.

"Goodness, if there were ever a mouse found in here, that really would be the end, for _all_ of us." Matilda's gentle voice sounded smaller and more vulnerable than ever. Once again Moe felt the steel barriers that protected his heart begin to give way. The girl looked so forlorn, standing there with clouds of flour in her hair, clutching the pink frosting tube in her tiny hand. She worked hard, Moe and the boys had already seen that. She was small in stature, even shorter than Moe, and yet there she was doing the work of an entire kitchen all by herself while her gorgon of an Aunt took all the credit for the wonderful goodies that her poor niece baked.

"There ain't gonna be any mouses...I mean, mices...I mean MICE in here, so don't worry about that," Moe assured her. "Maybe a couple of baboons," he added, glancing at Curly and Larry, "but no mice."

The smile returned to Matilda's face. "Thank you, Moe," she said. "I'm so grateful that you came to work here."

Another piece of Moe's heart crumbled at the sound of his name drifting from Matilda's rosebud lips. He wanted to tell her that it was an honor, and a pleasure, and no trouble at all, and that he would climb the highest mountain to stand by her against her snooty, overblown windbag of an Aunt, but all that came out was, "I...er...I...ah..." It wasn't often that Moe was rendered speechless but when he was, there was often a woman involved, and he still hadn't figured out a way to get around it. "I...I...I...I..." he continued, waiting for some halfway intelligent words to form. "I...I...I..."

"Aye yi yippee aye yay," sang Curly while Moe stuttered like a motorcycle running out of gas.

Curly's voice snapped Moe back to reality. "Uno moment, por favvy," he said, holding up one finger. He whipped around and stomped over to Curly.

"Hiya, General," trilled Curly, waggling his fingers.

"Spread out!" growled Moe, and slapped Curly across the face.

"What'sa matter wit' you?" Curly protested. He looked at Moe, then squinted his eyes and peered at Matilda, who by now had gone back to work, busily applying frosting to her cupcakes. He did this a few times more, his slitted eyes darting from Moe to Matilda, back to Moe, then back to Matilda.

"You're in _love _wid her!" Curly proclaimed at last.

Moe's face went white. For a moment it looked as if he was going to either explode or faint dead away. Or one right after the other, in no particular order. Then it looked as though he were going to be violently sick. Curly tensed, fully expecting the mother of all slapfests. But Moe didn't even lift a finger in retaliation towards the bald-headed Stooge.

Moe sighed, heavily. "Is it that obvious?"

Curly may have been stupid, but his heart was big and in the right place. "She sure is a beauty," he agreed.

Moe sighed like a beast of the jungle who knew he was on the verge of being defeated. "She _suuuure_ is. What am I gonna do?"

"Just act natural," Curly advised. "Like this." He went up on to his tippy-toes and began pirouetting around on the spot. "Naaaa-nanana-neeeee, na-na-naaaaaaa...and then when she comes over, just do this." Curly snapped his fingers rapidly, slapped the palm of his hand, and tickled Moe under the chin. "Hey cutie pie, what's cookin'? Oh, a pie, eh?" He rubbed his hands together and mimicked picking up a slice of pie. "Excuse me, you don't mind if I...?" he opened his mouth but got no further. Moe pushed Curly's empty hands up as though smushing the imaginary pie into his face.

"Get outta here," Moe grumbled. "I shoulda known better than to confide in you. What do _you_ know about women?"

"I know plenty about women!" Curly blustered. "They're like men, only they got long hair and they smell nice."

"Is that all?" Moe's voice was incredulous.

"And they make the world go round."

Moe dealt a stinging slap to Curly's cheek. "That's _money_," he growled. "And you know even less about _that_!"

"Nnnnnnhhnnggg!" Curly uttered through gritted teeth. Then his expression returned to normal. "You got a fair point," he conceded, affably.

Moe waved at Matilda who was looking around to see what the disturbance was, and with his other arm he elbowed Curly in the stomach. "Shape up and get busy," he hissed out of the side of his mouth. "We got cakes to feed and customers to bake."

Curly giggled. "She's got you tongue-tied."

Moe thumped Curly in the stomach again, harder this time. When Curly opened his mouth he reached in and grabbed Curly's tongue between his thumb and forefinger. "I'll tongue-tie you," he grumbled, twisting the squidgy organ round and around.

Larry, meanwhile, was on the other side of the room struggling to put as many trays of bread and cakes into the ovens as possible. Moe left Curly garbling nonsense and clutching his poor, bruised tongue. He went over and stood behind Larry with his hands on his hips, watching the bushy-haired, lightly perspiring Stooge with a look of mild interest on his face. Trays were piled haphazardly and unevenly into the ovens, with blobs of dough falling out everywhere.

"Hey, Porcupine! Think you can fit any more in there?" Moe wondered aloud.

Larry attempted to squeeze a large tray full of bread rolls in on top of another large tray full of chocolate chip cookies. "I think so," he replied, not even turning around. He reached for yet another tray. Moe handed him an empty one. "Hey! There's nuthin' in here!"

"Yeah, just like there's nuthin' in _here_!" Moe grabbed the tray back and dinged it down on Larry's head. The tray buckled into the shape of Larry's skull.

Mrs. Forshaw returned. She looked angrier than ever. "Where are my buns?" she shouted.

"Lady, your buns are the least of our worries," Moe replied, as the oven began overheating due to the amount of trays Larry had put in it.

Mrs. Forshaw humphed and hemphed and haawed. "Oh! You men are impossible! I'm running low on stock and the lunch crowd will be here any minute!"

"But it's only 10am!" Larry cried, a little over dramatically.

"That's because of the popularity of 'Beautiful Buns'!" Mrs. Forshaw's voice began rising almost hysterically.

"I can't argue with you there," Moe deadpanned.

Mrs. Forshaw fixed Moe with a look of pure disdain. "You've got a smart mouth, young man."

Moe grinned. He swung his arms slightly like a proud schoolboy. "Thanks. You're not so smart yourself."

Mrs. Forshaw was about to make an even snappier retort when the bell in the shop began to tinkle. The three Stooges glanced at each other. Moe chanced a look at Matilda, and felt his face flush when he saw that she was looking back at him.

"Oh, my," said Mrs. Forshaw, sounding a tiny bit nervous, "here come the crowds." Her face fell for a fraction of a second before her snooty, imperious manner slotted back into place. She drew herself up to her full height and threw back her shoulders, lifting her rather masculine chin into the air. "I'm going to need some help with serving these people. You..." she pointed at Larry. "You join me in the shop. And you..." she pointed sternly at Moe, "...you do the baking with Matilda, and try and stay out of trouble for five minutes."

"What about me?" Curly bleated plaintively. "Aint'cha gonna yell at me too?"

"Shaddaaapp," shouted Moe.

"Not you, _her_," said Curly, insolently.

"I wouldn't waste my breath on you," Mrs. Forshaw snapped, coldly.

"That's okay. I drink whiskey anyway. Nyuk nyuk nyuk."

"Ignoramus," Mrs. Forshaw muttered.

"Hey! I heard that!" said Moe, full of indignation. "You leave him alone!"

"Thanks, Moe!" grinned Curly.

"Quiet, water buffalo. If there's any insultin' to be done around here, _I'll _do it," said Moe. "Listen, lady. You take the porcupine here and leave the rest to us. Just don't keep interruptin' every five minutes 'cause that way nuthin' gets done. Capish?"

Curly looked at Moe, who grinned back at him. "Nice word, huh?"

"I'm impressed!" Curly nodded.

"Wait'll I really get goin'," Moe bragged.

"All right, that's enough." Mrs. Forshaw grabbed Larry by the shirtsleeve and pulled him towards the door.

"Hey, fellas! Help! It's got me!" Larry cried, struggling against the grip of Mrs. Forshaw, who was much bigger than he was in every aspect.

"Sorry, son- you're on your own this time," Moe said, with just a trace of sympathy. Mainly he was relieved that Mrs. Forshaw had chosen Larry and not him, because now it meant he could spend more time with Matilda.

Still squawking in protest and threatening to cut Moe out of his will forever, Larry was forcibly yanked through the kitchen doorway and out into the front of the shop. Matilda's eyes met Moe's and Moe felt the breath leave his lungs.

"He'll be all right." Moe jerked his thumb towards the kitchen door when he could breathe properly again. "He once stole food from a bear. Right under its nose, just like that!" Moe snapped his fingers.

"Goodness! A bear? Was it wild?"

"Wild?" said Moe. "It was furious!"

The flour coated girl laughed and shook her head. The musical sound of her merriment washed over Moe like the aroma of her freshly baked cookies and made him felt fifteen feet tall. The fortress that he'd built around his heart ever since he was an impressionable kid began to rock dangerously on its foundations, causing a strangely familiar, yet wholly unfamiliar ache to take up residence inside his chest. He found that he was looking at her, really looking at her, and he couldn't tear his gaze away, no matter how rude he knew it was to stare.

Matilda lowered her eyes and then looked up at him through her whitened eyelashes. "Aunt Agnes said you're to help me," she said, and Moe wondered if she was flirting with him. Because if she was, then the leader of the Stooges was in real danger of making a very big fool of himself, and nobody would be in any position to stop it, let alone Moe himself.

Moe smiled almost bashfully. "She wants buns, we'll give her buns. She wants cakes? We'll give her cakes. She wants turnovers, loaves, doughnuts and puffs? We'll give her all that, and more." He joined Matilda at her workstation and grabbed an apron that was hanging from a hook on the wall. "Looks like it's you and me, Toots. Just point me in the right direction."

Matilda giggled and pointed over his shoulder. "Over there. Do you see that big bag of flour?"

Moe looked around. A bag of flour the size of a child's playhouse stood in the corner. "N'yaa-aa-aargh!" he murmured, sounding almost exactly like Curly.

"And those eggs?"

Moe looked over to one side and saw six clucking, fat but exhausted chickens sitting in a box full of hay, laying eggs almost as fast as the eggs could be used. Moe slapped his own cheek with a loud crack.

"And those bags of sugar? And that barrel of yeast? And..."

Moe folded his arms across his chest and gave Matilda a sideways glance. "I get it," he smiled. "You're tryin' to put me off, see if I've got the gumption."

"I thought you got rid of the gumption?" Curly interjected.

"Pipe down," Moe barked. Then he softened up again. "Listen, Matilda. If you can do all this work by yourself, then think how much more you can get done with an able assistant." He smiled charmingly at Matilda, hoping that she thought as well of him as he thought of her.

"Yeah, an able assistant!" said Curly. "Want me to go out and find you one?"

That was the last straw for Moe. He took three huge strides over to Curly and slapped him across the face. "Why don't you go out and find yourself a brain?" He thumped Curly in the stomach and clonked him on the forehead. "Pick out two," he instructed, holding out his fingers.

"One, two," said Curly. Moe jabbed him in the eyes with the two fingers he'd picked out.

Larry appeared in the doorway looking flustered. "It's crazy out there," he whined. "Get me some cakes before she curdles the cream!"

Curly, Moe and Matilda leapt into action. Curly collided with Moe. "Spread out!" said Moe, slapping Curly on the head. Matilda began scooping flour and water and milk and sugar into one of the big mixing bowls that were constantly churning. Curly began supplying clean kitchenware and taking away the dirty ones to be washed. They fell into a routine quicker than any of them had expected, and Moe felt a surge of relief that for once, he hadn't made a complete fool of himself in front of a pretty girl.

Although there was still plenty of time for that, of course...


	3. Chapter 3

**I don't know what this is. I said it wouldn't get schmaltzy, but in this chapter Matilda and Moe share a (hopefully sweet) moment where Matilda tells him some stuff and... well, you'll see when you read it.**

**Big Stooge hugs to you for reading this- even bigger Stooge hugs if you choose to leave a review, and a whole mess of Stooge slaps if you don't!**

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**Chapter 3**

'Beautiful Buns' was as busy as Mrs. Forshaw had said it was. All four tables were full, with customers enjoying hot coffee and glazed doughnuts, iced tea and cake slices. Men stood at a narrow counter along the far wall, reading their newspapers in the shafts of sunlight that streamed in through the window. The bell above the door tinkled constantly as a steady stream of people came in to buy loaves of bread and boxes of cakes. Inevitably Agnes Forshaw would persuade them to purchase more than they'd come for, and they left with paper sacks filled to the brim with goodies they hadn't even been thinking about before they'd entered the shop.

While the stately Mrs. Forshaw chatted away to her customers, or 'clientele', as she insisted on calling them, poor flustered Larry ran back and forth behind the counter on his own, filling sacks, pouring coffee, arranging cakes and dainties onto plates and handing them out to patrons who, for the most part, barely gave the bushy-haired Stooge a second glance. Now and again someone with a kind face would make eye contact and say 'thank you', but Mrs. Forshaw would promptly butt in to take their attention away from him. She didn't want Larry talking to anyone, she didn't want him to do anything that would '_give him ideas above his station_'. When a table became clear, Mrs. Forshaw would point at it and fix Larry with a stern glare. She didn't seem to think it necessary to just ask him nicely, if he would mind clearing and resetting the table for the next customers.. Larry was a simple soul- he would happily have worked for someone who genuinely liked him and looked after his interests. If free food came with the deal he would even have married them, such would have been his loyalty. As it was, every time Mrs. Forshaw turned her grumpy visage in his direction, Larry felt like picking up the nearest cake and shoving it right in her face.

Matilda came out from the kitchen with two plastic trays full of freshly baked goods. "How are you coping, Larry?" she asked, giving him a sweet smile to melt his heart.

"How does it look like I'm coping?" Larry said mournfully, taking the trays from her outstretched hands. Matilda eyed his dishevelled collar and rumpled shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows, his look of frustration and exhaustion. "She's driving me crazy! I do all the work and she tells everyone that they're all her recipes and all her ideas."

"I'm sorry," Matilda said, gently. "But I did warn you what she was like."

"I don't mean to get personal about your family, Matilda," Larry said in a low tone, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Mrs. Forshaw was busy yacking to a customer, "but she's like Attila the Hun, the Devil and Moe all rolled into one!"

Matilda had to put her hand over her mouth to stop a giggle from bursting right out of her. "Larry! That's not nice!"

"You're right. It ain't fair to compare Attila the Hun and the Devil to Moe," agreed Larry. "It ain't fair on Attila the Hun and the Devil!"

Matilda gave Larry an affectionate pat on the shoulder. "Poor Moe! Why, he's working _just_ as hard as you are back there. Speaking of work, you'd better get back to the counter before Aunt Agnes catches you talking to me and takes an hour off of both our wages."

Larry rolled his eyes and trotted back to the counter with the trays of goodies. Matilda shook her head, still giggling at Larry's comment about Attila the Hun, the Devil and Moe. When she re-entered the kitchen, she discovered that Moe was far from hard at work. He was leaning on the counter, sleeves rolled up, telling Curly some crazy story about a time he was out fishing, using his arms emphatically to illustrate some of the finer points of his conversation.

"So anyway, there I was, right in the middle of the Hootchicoochi River! Water up to here! I hooked the old trout, and..." Moe suddenly noticed that Matilda was back and hastily pushed himself upright in an attempt to make himself look as busy as he had been when she left. "Say, speaking of trouts," he said amiably, straightening his dough splattered apron, "how's Porcupine getting along with Aunt Agnes?"

"She's running him ragged, the poor boy," Matilda replied. Her gaze darted quickly over Moe from head to foot, but not so quickly that Moe didn't notice it. He found himself sucking his stomach in as a result.

"That's his trouble, he ain't used to hard work."

Matilda eyed Moe teasingly. "'The Hootchicoochi River'?" she smiled.

"He's lyin'!" Curly protested. "There ain't no fish in the Hootchicoochi River!"

"And how d'you know that?" Moe scowled.

"'Cause there ain't no Hootchicoochi River!"

"Oh, a traitor, eh?" Moe grabbed Curly's nose in one hand and brought his other hand down hard. Curly yelped in pain.

"I'm sorry, Moe, I'm sorry! Just 'cause you don't tell the truth, don't mean you're a liar!"

"That's better!" Moe let go of Curly's nose and moved away from the counter towards Matilda and the area where he was meant to be working. "Ya gotta keep an eye on them," he told her, trying desperately to maintain some shred of authority while knowing that he was failing badly.

Matilda looked up and fixed him with her large green eyes. "Obviously I'm going to have to keep an eye on _you_," she teased, handing Moe a tray of cookies for the oven.

Moe felt himself turning right back into a 10 year old boy caught by the truant officer. He took the tray in silence and went over to put it in the oven. As he passed Curly, the bald Stooge made a clanking sound with his teeth and then a noise that sounded like "_Hat'cha cha cha cha_," followed by a quick burst of "woo woo woo woo woo woo!" and a couple of '_ruff_'s. With his hands full, Moe could only glare at him in suppressed fury. Curly snickered, thinking he'd gotten away with it. On his return from the oven, Moe tapped Curly on the shoulder.

"Would you mind repeatin' what you just said?" he asked, gruffly.

"Why, soitenly!" Curly clanked his teeth and repeated, "_hat'cha cha cha cha_, woo woo woo woo woo woo! Rrrrr-uff! _**Rrrrr**_**-**_**UFF**_!"

Moe slapped Curly across the face mid 'ruff', which immediately sent Curly into a petulant sulk. "That's what I thought," he growled. "You keep your opinions to yourself!"

"_Oooooooh_!" Angry now, Curly scooped up two handfuls of thick soapsuds from the sink and slapped them onto the top of Moe's head, messing up his carefully combed hairstyle. "There! Now you're a cute little cupcake," he giggled. "Hey, Matilda, look at the cute little..._OOOOOOF_!" Curly doubled over from a sudden punch to the stomach delivered by Moe, who then picked up an egg and slammed it down onto the back of Curly's head as he bent over, clutching at his midsection.

"And you're a cute little soft boiled egghead," he snarled in a singsong voice, as yolk and raw egg white slithered messily down Curly's bald dome and into his ears.

Larry suddenly appeared, his hair wild and unkempt, breaking up what might have descended into a full-on raging battle involving any and all weapons both Curly and Moe could lay their hands on. He beckoned everyone, including Matilda, into a huddle. "Hurry!" he hissed. "I ain't got long- she went next door to the antiques place but she'll be back any minute!" The three Stooges and the young woman linked arms over each others' shoulders and leaned over so their heads were close together.

"What's the matter, Porcupine?" asked Moe.

"It's Agnes. I overheard her while she was on the phone. She's gonna sell a stake in 'Beautiful Buns' to some guy called Erickson!" Larry chattered, excitedly.

"A steak? We don't sell steaks!" said Curly. "But I sure wish we did! Nyuk nyuk nyuk!"

"Are you gonna hit him or shall I?" Moe grumbled to Larry.

Matilda let out a soft gasp. "Stanley Erickson!" she said, in a tone of pure dismay. "Oh, I should have known _he_ was still around!"

"That's the handle!" said Larry. "You know him?"

Matilda nodded. "Stanley Erickson is a very rich man. He and Aunt Agnes go back a long way." She drew in a deep, trembling breath. "A _long_ way." She went silent, but the implication was clear- at least to Moe and Larry it was. Curly was still dreaming of steaks.

"Oh, boy," Moe muttered under his breath.

Matilda broke away from the huddle and began to pace nervously. "Poor Uncle Edward had no idea," she said, glumly. "Or if he did, he didn't say a word about it for 20 years."

"_20 years_? Why, of all the dirty, rotten..." Not only was Moe disappointed that Matilda had left the huddle, he was surprised to find he was quite badly ruffled by this piece of news. Had he really become so fond of Matilda in such a short space of time that he was scandalised by the affairs of people he didn't even know enough to care about?

"Listen, I gotta get back," said Larry, breaking Moe out of his reverie. "If she catches me away from the counter my goose is cooked. I'll reekonoiter with ya later." Larry ran so fast out of the kitchen that his wild, bushy hair followed almost a whole ten seconds later.

"He'll reek o' what?" said Curly. "I thought he had a bath only last week!"

Moe pounded his fist down on top of Curly's head. "The word is _reconnoitre_, dummy. It's French."

"That's even woise!" Curly said, aghast. "They eat nutin' but onions! Boy, will he reek!"

Moe smacked Curly again. "Get outta here," he growled. "Get back to work and not another peep outta ya!" He watched Curly like a hawk until Curly was safely back on the other side of the kitchen, mumbling and muttering and making strange little noises by himself. Then he took Matilda gently, almost shyly by the elbow and steered her back to the counter where they had been working together all morning.

"Now I don't mean to pry or anythin', Toots," he said, "but I don't like this situation you're in. I take it you were close to your Uncle Edward?"

Matilda nodded. "Uncle Edward was my father's brother. He was a wonderful man, and he was devoted to this shop. In his day it was much more of a friendly traditional bakery. It wasn't called 'Beautiful Buns', either, it was just called Forshaw's. But Aunt Agnes is turning it into something pretentious, somewhere you can only go if you're wearing the right clothes or mixing in the right circles. She thinks we should be like the Ritz Hotel, and charge Ritz Hotel prices."

"The Ritz? Why, she's crackers!" said Moe. "It's a buck and a half for a Swiss cheese sandwich in there!"

"You eat at the Ritz?" Matilda's eyes widened incredulously.

"No, I look at the menu through the window," Moe replied. "Some days, I can't even afford to do that!"

"It would break Uncle Edward's heart if this place changed beyond all recognition," Matilda sighed. "He was always so warm and down to earth. He'd give away free bread if he thought anyone was going hungry."

"I can see how it's breakin' your heart," Moe said, and he could. Matilda looked like a woman whose whole world had gone wrong.

"I _loved _Uncle Edward and the old Forshaw's." Matilda raised her luminous green eyes and looked directly into Moe's glittering blue ones. "I had hoped there'd be a will leaving the business to me after he died. But there was no will. Uncle Edward died suddenly, and nothing was ever found." She sighed, and in a rare show of frustration, she banged her fist down onto the tube of pink frosting. A glob of sticky pink goo shot out and splatted on Moe's forehead, right between the eyes. He looked up through his messy bangs at the pink blob hanging between his beetle black eyebrows and he wondered briefly if he should ask Matilda to become a Stooge and run away with him forever.

"Oh, Moe! I'm so sorry," Matilda cried, interrupting his wandering thoughts. She reached up and peeled the gooey blob from Moe's head and attempted to smooth down his bangs, which were already sticky from the mountain of soap suds Curly had adorned him with. Moe stood silently, his eyes half closed, not even daring to move lest she stop what she was doing. He couldn't remember the last time a woman had run her fingers through his hair. Having it pulled didn't count.

"So, this Erickson character," he chanced while Matilda was busy fussing. Having moved on from his hair, she had now decided his collar needed straightening, his apron tweaked and tucked and his shirt sleeves patted down. "It's clear he's a shady ticket. What gives? Think there's something sinister going on?" He looked down and wondered what she was thinking as she fiddled with his shoulder seams. He hoped they were nice thoughts, because he was certainly having nice thoughts about her. It was a while before he realised that she wasn't answering his question. "Matilda?" he said, ducking his head to try and see her expression.

"Stanley Erickson and his weaselly son Clarence have been thorns in my side for over 20 years," Matilda almost whispered. "They and my Aunt Agnes are all cut from the same cloth. All they want is wealth, status and something for nothing. This may look like just a baker's shop to you, Moe, but it's been my whole life up until now. Uncle Edward used to bring me here when I was a little girl, and I'd help out behind the counter. Oh, I loved this place so much!" The tears finally began to fall. Moe stood helplessly watching as Matilda wiped her nose clumsily with the first cloth she could lay her hand on. Unfortunately it was the one Moe had used to wipe off the counter and it left wet, doughy smears across her floury, tear stained cheeks. He couldn't decide whether his heart ached for her because she was a wonderful, genuine person, or because she was starting to look like the Pilsbury Doughboy.

Moe's mouth went dry and he swallowed past the lump in his throat. He knew what he should do, because it was the _right _thing to do, even if it scared him. He held his arms out, a little hesitantly, hoping she wouldn't think he was being forward. "Come on, Toots," he said gently. "We all need a hug sometimes."

Matilda forced a shaky smile and went right into Moe's arms without hesitation. He breathed a sigh of relief, cradling her head against his shoulder with the same hand that he used to break things over the other Stooges' heads and slap them repeatedly until they didn't know whether they were coming or going. He looked at his tough guy fingers weaving delicately through Matilda's hair. Life sure was strange sometimes, and it was usually the nicest people who suffered.

Moe suddenly hated Agnes Forshaw more than he'd ever hated anyone before in his life. She was the worst kind of snob- someone who would forsake their roots and their own family just for a taste of the high life. Moe had always had a problem with snobbery, yet everywhere he and his fellow Stooges went, they always seemed to encounter it. Sometimes he wondered if his anger at the injustices of the world was the only thing keeping him going- but now, as he looked at Matilda and the fading light in her eyes, as he held her gently in his arms while she let it all out, he thought of all the other feelings there were besides anger. Feelings that were ten times stronger than anger. A _million_ times stronger and a trillion times more useful.

But it always came back to anger. Anger was the only feeling that didn't frighten Moe because he was so used to it, so familiar with its unpredictable ways, no matter how much trouble it caused. So he locked all the other feelings away and let the anger guide him through life like an arrow fired from a powerful crossbow, tearing through everything in its path, never finding anywhere to make a safe landing. Anger without end.

"Aw, heck," he thought to himself, unaware of anything now except the woman in his arms, unaware that Curly had stopped washing dishes and was standing wide-eyed and open-mouthed on the other side of the kitchen, twiddling his fingers together and wondering if he should stay where he was in the kitchen or run_ woo woo woo-ing_ into the shop to tell Larry that Moe had finally lost his marbles over a dame.

Moe made his decision. If anger was the only thing he knew how to do, then by golly he was going to do it, and do it well. If snooty Agnes Forshaw thought he was a pushover, then he'd show her what it felt like to be pushed over! "Stick around, Toots," he said, when Matilda finally stopped crying and was drying her eyes properly, on a clean cloth this time. "No-one deserves 'Beautiful Buns' more than you, and if you want them, then you shall have them."

"Oh, Moe!" Matilda beamed, her eyes so huge and shiny that Moe almost felt like he was going to drown in them. "How will I ever thank you for helping me like this?"

Moe winked at her like a wiseguy. "Sweetheart," he drawled, "seeing you as the owner of 'Beautiful Buns' will be all the thanks I need."

Matilda laughed with him, and then stunned him with her next words, spoken almost as a whisper. "_All _the thanks you need?" Her green eyes shone up at him and there was no mistaking the sudden naughty gleam that flashed in their depths for an instant.

Moe blinked, not quite believing what his ears had just heard, then suddenly realised he'd turned into a staring, open mouthed idiot. Across the room, Curly 'nyuk nyuk nyuk'ed,' snapped his fingers, slapped the palm of his hand and tickled himself under the chin.

"_N'yaa-aa-aa-aa-aargh_!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Oh, you guys are too much! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing. (I hope your arms aren't too bent out of shape from all the twisting. ;-)) Ell Aitch, I know I owe you big time reviews, don't worry, I'll get there, it's just that I'm drowning in Stoogemania and find it hard to concentrate on anything else at least until this story is finished. You know me and my fixated nature- one fandom at a time, and 100% dedication to it for as long as the infatuation lasts.**

**Well, here goes with chapter 4, and Moe gets thrown even further into the deep end... (I think he's beginning to enjoy it though!) **

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**Chapter 4**

Larry was clearing yet another dirty table full of cake smeared plates and coffee cups smudged with lipstick. He ached all over, from the top of his bushy head to the ends of his knobby toes that were crammed into ill fitting, beat up old shoes. He felt as though he were the Stooge that always got the bum rap, but then he remembered poor Curly, stuck in the kitchen with Moe, and was thankful that he hadn't been slapped even _once_ in the past two hours. _No doubt Moe'll make up for it later_, he thought, stacking plates and sweeping crumbs off the gingham tablecloth, but for now it was nice not to have his brain sent spinning around inside his head every two minutes while Moe yelled at him like a carnival barker.

He heard the bell tinkle and looked up wearily. He hoped it wasn't more customers, but it was only Agnes Forshaw returning from the antiques shop next door. He didn't know why she had left the busy shop and he was long since past caring. Even so, when he saw the tall and gangly young man who was with her, some kind of instinctive Stooge alarm went off inside him.

"Go and get Matilda," Mrs. Forshaw instructed bluntly, not even addressing Larry by his name. "Tell her that Clarence is here to see her."

Larry stared at the young man, who was staring back at him as though the Stooge were something nasty he'd just scraped off the bottom of his shoe. Larry dropped his pile of plates onto the table, turned on his heel and ran all the way into the kitchen, promptly colliding with Moe and sending a tray of bread rolls flying out of Moe's hands. The rolls went up in the air and the empty tray skidded across the counter with a loud clatter and rattled noisily onto the floor. Moe and Larry shut their eyes and hunched their shoulders with every crash and clatter, then slowly Moe opened his eyes, one at a time, and fixed Larry with an ominous glare.

"Where's the race?" he demanded. A bread roll fell out of the sky and bounced off his head. Another one splashed into the dishwater, wetting Curly in the face. A third roll went down an open pipe behind one of the ovens, and a fourth roll followed directly behind it. A fifth roll landed among the chickens and set them all clucking and squawking and laying eggs faster than ever. A sixth roll landed in the middle of the beautifully decorated cake that Matilda had just finished piping swirly rose petals onto. Everyone waited to see where the seventh and eighth rolls would fall, but nothing happened.

"Like I was sayin'," Moe growled. "What's the idea of..." The seventh roll came down and bounced off his head and the eighth roll came down and bounced off Larry's head.

"Two for the price of one!" Curly declared. "Nyuk nyuk nyuk!"

Moe administered a sound smack to Larry's bald forehead and Larry sighed loudly. Moe's eyes narrowed. "'What's a-matter, porcupine? One ain't good enough for ya?" He slapped Larry again. "Here's another one!"

"At least no-one was slapping me out there!" Larry whined, pointing towards the shop.

"Aww, ain't that sweet?" Moe smacked him yet again. "That's for sayin' you'd rather be out there than in here with us!"

"I didn't say that!" Larry protested, rubbing his head.

Moe dealt a ringing slap across Larry's cheek. "We're not good enough for ya, eh? Gettn' fancy ideas now, eh?" He pulled his hand back for another slap and suddenly found it encased in something soft, and warm, and …

He turned around to find Matilda holding his hand, stopping him from smacking Larry.

"I think poor Larry gets the idea," she smiled, gently.

Moe calmed down, but the anger was still there, coursing around in his veins like a runaway bobsled. His twitching fingers clasped a little too tightly around Matilda's. "I didn't mean to..." he mumbled, "that is, I..."

"Perhaps we ought to find out why Larry's here before we go dishing out slaps," Matilda said, not unkindly. She looked coyly at Moe from under her eyelashes.

"It's about time!" Larry said, loudly. He composed himself and tried vainly to smooth his hair down but it sprang right back up again, bushier than ever. "Clarence is here to see you," he told Matilda, bluntly.

Now it was Matilda who tightened her fingers around Moe's. She blanched. "Clarence? Clarence Erickson?"

Moe gaped. Not least because Matilda's vice-like grip was starting to grind his knucklebones together painfully. "The son of that guy we were talking about just before? Why would he be here to see y..."

Matilda looked down at the floor, away from Moe. She bit her lower lip softly.

Moe disengaged his fingers from hers. He wasn't gentle about it and she winced. "Oh, like _that_ is it?" he said, a little too sharply for his own liking.

"Moe, it's not..." But she didn't get very far before Moe interrupted.

"Get over here," he growled in a low tone.

There was a tiny room at the back of the kitchen where the mops and brooms and cleaning supplies were kept. Moe took Matilda there and stood facing her with his back towards the kitchen.

"Clarence, eh?"

Matilda couldn't meet his eyes. "I tried to tell you, it's not like that," she said, her voice tiny.

Moe lifted his chin. The gesture was defensive and vaguely confrontational. "That's what they _all_ say."

"In this case, it's true!" Matilda insisted. "I _despise_ Clarence Erickson! I despised him when we were children, and I despise him now! He's arrogant, and wasteful, and rude, and he's never done a day's work in his life! He just rides along on his father's coattails and treats everyone as though they're beneath him, _including _me!"

"So why's he here askin' for you?" Moe didn't want to be suspicious. He wanted to believe he'd finally met a woman who was warm, and honest, and genuine and who didn't play fast and loose with a guy's feelings. He didn't want to think that all dames were the same, but something always happened to reinforce his long held beliefs that they were.

Matilda finally risked a look at Moe's face. Moe tried to relax his stance a little, tried not to make her feel like a cornered deer chased down by a ruthless hunter. "Aunt Agnes has been trying to pair us up all our lives, but it got worse after Uncle Edward died," she said at last. Then she sighed as though the very last vestige of wind had been knocked out of her sails. "I had hoped she'd given up, but if she's planning on going into business with Stanley, then having me marry Clarence will make sure the business, and therefore the money, stays in the family."

"But then you'll be trapped!" said Moe.

"I'm already trapped," she replied, shaking her head sadly.

"No you ain't." Moe protested. He unfolded his arms and put his hands on Matilda's slender shoulders. "You don't have to stay here, and you don't have to marry that swindler! There's a big world out there, Toots, there's all _kinds_ of different things you could do. Think of it! All the places you could go, sights you could see, people you could see 'em...with." He swallowed nervously as those last words came out, not even knowing why he was putting his heart on his sleeve like that. What was he thinking of? He looked Matilda right in the eyes and braced himself for the final rejection.

But rejection didn't come. Instead, Matilda threw her arms around Moe's neck and almost made him fall over a mop bucket. "Help me, Moe," she pleaded, hugging him tightly. "I can't face Aunt Agnes and Clarence together on my own. They've worn me down so much over the years I could end up saying _anything_ just for a quiet life!" She shifted in Moe's embrace and laid her soft cheek against the bowl-cut Stooge's slightly rougher one.

Moe felt a tidal wave of relief wash over him, making him suddenly weak at the knees. (He also found himself desperately wishing he'd shaved a little more closely that morning, but when you only had one razor blade between three men and one of those men kept using it to shave his rock-hard head, you weren't going to have much luck in trying to keep your skin as smooth as a baby's behind.)

He wrapped his arms protectively around Matilda and hugged her almost as tightly as she was hugging him. "I gotcha, Toots. Nothing's gonna happen to you while _I'm _around! I'm comin' out there with you to meet this Clarence, and mark my words I'll tear 'em both limb from limb. Why, I'll corkscrew their noses and twist their ears, and poke 'em in the eyes, and then I'll knock their brains right through to the middle o' next week!"

"I knew I could count on you, Moe," Matilda breathed, her voice humming though Moe's cheek. "From the moment we met, I could see you were somebody special."

Moe gulped. The feeling of her velvety soft cheek against his was bad enough, but now she was starting to tickle the short, dark hairs at the nape of his neck, and if there was one thing guaranteed to get him all wound up and addle-brained, it was that. "You really think so?" he asked, hesitantly. He was secretly thrilled to hear that she'd liked him right from the start, but he was almost afraid of what she might say next. He didn't know why he needed so much proof that a woman liked him. _Really_ liked him- not just pretended to. He knew it was crazy, but he could handle pretension much easier than he could deal with genuine affection.

"I _do _think so." Matilda spoke with a smile in her voice that Moe could actually feel as her lips moved against his skin. "There I was, all alone and facing another day of misery with Aunt Agnes, when suddenly, three knights in shining armor turned up right out of the blue, right on my doorstep."

"_Three_?" said Moe, a little gruffly. "Boy, you sure know how to deflate a guy!"

Matilda giggled and tickled his neck some more. "Will you for once let a body finish what they're saying?"

"Sure," Moe agreed.

"What I was saying was..."

"Say, is it me or is it getting warm in here?" Moe smiled at her expression. "Sorry, Toots, go ahead. You were about to tell me how wonderful I was."

Matilda wound her arms ever tighter around his neck and laughed softly. "I was _going _to, but it appears you already know!"

Moe chuckled too. He was finally beginning to relax, to enjoy the feeling of being around a pretty woman and not be questioning her motives, over-analysing her conversation, looking for any excuse to say, '_you dames are all alike!_', then running for the hills without looking back. "I know I ain't perfect," he said. "Why, I got more faults than San Francisco. But I do know how to stick up for myself and those two chuckleheads out there. I mean, I ain't gotten us killed yet. Sure, maybe a little electrocuted, set on fire, busted up, torn apart, stung by bees, almost drowned, chased by Indians, bitten by wild animals, run over by streetcars, gotten into automobile wrecks, fallen out of wagons, airplanes, trains, and boats, but not killed!"

Matilda's smiling lips were now just millimeters away from his. "What an exciting life you lead," she whispered, drawing even closer, so close that Moe could feel the draught caused by her eyelashes fluttering.

He felt a warm flush creep up his neck, making him go all hot under the collar. He looked down into her eyes. It was nice to be with a woman who was shorter than he was- it made him feel protective and strong and ready to do anything for her. "You could, too, Matilda. You just gotta make a break for it. Get out while you can."

"I don't want to talk any more," Matilda said, her eyes drifting shut.

"Oh...ah...sure," stammered Moe. He glanced quickly and furtively over his shoulder to make sure Larry and Curly weren't getting a ringside view, then he pulled the door closed just to make sure that even if they craned their necks they wouldn't be able to see anything. "I don't entertain hecklers," he explained, when Matilda arched her flour dusted eyebrow at him.

"What makes you think you're going to be heckled?" she replied, flirtatiously.

With the door closed, Moe was finally able to look deep into Matilda's eyes. He savoured the feel of her arms around his neck, her warm body closer than he'd ever dared to imagine. "I know I said the world was a big place," he said, "but right now I can't think of any place I'd rather be than stuck here in this tiny cleaning closet with you."

Almost as if to demonstrate how small the room was, a stack of brooms fell over and narrowly missed clonking Matilda on the head. "Are you done talking yet?" she giggled.

Moe looked upwards, miming deep thought. Then he pulled her as close as he could and tipped her chin back with gentle fingertips. "Yeah," he murmured, bringing his lips to hers. "I'm done."

Outside in the kitchen, Larry and Curly stared at the closed door to the cleaning closet and then at each other. "Are you thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?" asked Larry.

"How do I know?" Curly retorted.

"Well, what are you thinkin'?"

"I don't know! I'm thinkin'!" said Curly. "_Hmmmmmm_!"

Larry slapped Curly across the cheek. "Hurry up and tell me what you're thinkin'!"

"How can I think with you hittin' me?"

Larry slapped him again. "Come on! I ain't got all day!"

Curly jumped up and down on the spot and pointed his forefinger in Larry's face.

"See this?" said Larry, holding out his fist. Then he slapped down on it with his other hand and windmilled his fist up and over onto Curly's bald dome with a loud clunk.

The slapfest was broken up by the kitchen door flying open with a thunderous crash, hitting the wall so hard that plates and trays rattled on the counter and ladles and spoons swung back and forth from the hooks on which they hung. "Where's Matilda?" blared a highly irate and red-faced Mrs. Forshaw. She glared with undisguised fury at Larry. "Why didn't you do as you were told?"

Larry backed away from Agnes Forshaw and bumped into Curly's ample stomach. "I couldn't find her!" he bleated.

"What do you mean, _you couldn't find her_? She should be right here where she _always_ is!" Mrs. Forshaw scoured the room with her beady, glinting eyes. "Matilda!" she snapped, loudly. "Matilda Jane Forshaw, you come out here right now!" After a couple of moments in which there was still no sign of Matilda, Mrs. Forshaw's eyes narrowed into cruel slits as she stared with rage at Larry and Curly. "Where's that other imbecile?" she said icily. "The one with the smart mouth. Where's he gone?"

Larry shrugged. "I guess Nature called."

Mrs. Forshaw looked as though she didn't believe a word. "There's something very odd going on in here," she grumbled. "I knew I should have trusted my instincts when you three buffoons showed up!"

In the cleaning closet, Matilda had gone into a state of panic at the sound of Agnes's shrill voice demanding to know where she was. She huddled like a frightened animal in Moe's arms lest the door should fly open any minute and Agnes Forshaw drag her out by her hair.

"Leave this to me," Moe said, gently. "I'll create a disturbance and you sneak out when she's not lookin'."

"How are you going to do that?" Matilda asked, looking at him hopefully- at his thick, dark bangs through which she'd tangled her fingers, at his blue eyes full of tenderness mixed with steely resolve, at the lips she'd just kissed and wanted to keep on kissing until the stars fell out of the sky.

Moe raised his eyebrows incredulously, then his face broke out into a wide grin. "How am I gonna create a disturbance?" he chuckled. "Lady, do you know me at _all_?"

Just as Larry had almost run out of excuses as to where Matilda and Moe had gone, Moe crashed loudly out of the cleaning closet, making Curly jump three feet in the air and start woo woo wooing. He was now wearing a pair of janitor's overalls and a white cap on his head and his arms were full of mops, buckets, brooms, dusters and cans of elbow grease. "By golly, I thought I'd never get out of there!" he proclaimed, as though he'd been exploring the deepest, darkest jungles for fifteen years.

"Where have you been?" Mrs. Forshaw demanded. "And where is Matilda?"

Moe set the mop bucket down and threw all the brooms into a pile on the floor. "Lady, I been everywhere. North, South, East and West. You name it, I've been there."

"Yeah!" Curly shouted. "He's even been to jail!"

Mrs. Forshaw's eyes flew open. "Jail?" she gasped in horror.

"Yeah, but don't worry- I've been to jail, too!"

"And me!" chimed in Larry. "We even formed ourselves a barbershop quartet!"

"But a quartet needs four people," Mrs. Forshaw found herself saying.

"Yeah! Moe, Larry, and I'm two people!" grinned Curly, patting his ample belly with pride. "Nyuk nyuk nyuk!"

Mrs. Forshaw looked like she might faint. Meanwhile Moe was crashing around the room with his mop and bucket, creating such a disturbance that Matilda was indeed able to sneak out of the closet behind him while Moe distracted Aunt Agnes by mopping all over her expensive leather pumps.

"Stop that!" Mrs. Forshaw cried, kicking out at Moe's mop.

"Gotta keep the place clean, cookie," Moe said, carrying on. "You never know when a Health Inspector might turn up!"

Matilda smoothed herself down, patted her hair into place, checked in her small compact mirror that her lipstick wasn't too smudged, and then appeared behind Agnes Forshaw as though she'd been there all along. "I'm sorry Aunt Agnes, I had urgent business to attend to." She tried to sound as meek as she could, while flying high on the effects of the kiss she and Moe had just shared. She lowered her eyelids deliberately, as though it would be impolite for anyone to press for details.

Except for Curly. "Oh, did Nature call you too, huh?" He turned and looked suspiciously at Larry. "Has Nature called _you_ yet?"

"No," said Larry.

"Oh, good! I'd hate it if Nature called everyone except me! I don't like it when I ain't invited to a party!"

Mrs. Forshaw took Matilda by the hand and turned to leave the kitchen. "Get back to work, you nitwits," she snapped. She pushed at Moe who was purposely trying to get in her way as she tried to leave the kitchen. "What are you doing?" she almost shouted.

"I'm workin', what does it look like? You blind? Want me to clean your glasses for you?" Moe took a dirty cloth and wiped it all over Agnes Forshaw's face. "Super service," he grinned as Mrs. Forshaw coughed and spluttered, vainly batting at Moe's hands. "What's more, I don't charge for the first hour." He rubbed the cloth harder over her face, making sure he irritated the end of her snooty nose as much as possible. "Hold still!" he instructed. "You got worms or somethin'?"

"Get away from me, you horrible man!" Agnes Forshaw gritted her teeth, pushed Moe as hard as she could, and dragged Matilda bodily out of the kitchen. It was all Matilda could do, as she was hauled unceremoniously through the doorway, to turn her head and looked plaintively at Moe, and then she was gone.

Moe spit into the palms of his hands and gleefully rubbed them together. "Lady, you want trouble?" he grinned, back in his element at last. "Then trouble is exactly what you're gonna get." He turned to his fellow Stooges. "You wit' me, boys?"

"All for one!" said Larry.

"And one for me!" Curly nyuked. He reached for a nearby doughnut and Moe stalked over and slapped it straight out of his hands. The doughnut flew across the room, bounced off the wall and landed in the mop bucket with a splash.

"_Hmmmmmmmm_!" said Curly. "RUFF! _**RUFF**_!"

Moe slapped him again. "Come _aaaaaaan_," growled the bowl headed Leader of the Stooges, grabbing Curly by the ear and Larry by the hair. "We got work to do!"


	5. Chapter 5

**No Author Notes for this one, just straight into the chappie. (Wait, _that_ was an Author Note...nnn-yaaa-aaargh...)**

**Chapter 5**

Matilda sat with Clarence at a corner table by the window, trying to appear as gracious as possible, at least in public. There were still quite a lot of customers in the shop and she could hear Aunt Agnes bragging about '_her_' delicious rhubarb pie and '_her_' more-ish raspberry tarts while Clarence adjusted the starched white cuffs of his expensively tailored suit- a suit she felt he had no right to be wearing when real working men were standing at the counter wearing their uniforms. She wondered how long the workers would be able to afford a visit to the bakery once Aunt Agnes started raising her prices. What sort of reputation would they get among the people who used to rely on them for inexpensive, wholesome goodies- cakes and pastries served with a smile and a bit of daily chit-chat? Matilda knew that Uncle Edward was rolling in his grave, she could feel the true blood of the Forshaw's boiling through her heart and soul, angry at the injustice of it all. Agnes was a Forshaw in name only, the old dragon would never know what it felt like to be decent and kind and honest, to serve the public with a smile because it was an _honour_, not a stepping stone to something 'better'.

"It's very nice to see you, Matilda," Clarence drawled, "although I must say you are looking rather dishevelled." He looked pointedly at her flour dusted blouse and then slanted his eyes sideways towards the counter. "Where_ is_ that man with my coffee?" he complained. "Hoy, you there!" he clicked his fingers in Larry's direction. "Hurry up, would you? I'm a busy man!"

Larry quickly poured a mug of steaming coffee and rushed across to their table. "I must apologise, sir," said the bushy haired Stooge, smiling politely. "You'll notice that the popularity of this establishment means it ain't easy to get to everyone at the same time." Larry turned his bushy head towards Matilda and gave her the most adorably disarming grin, thrilled with the fact that he'd been able to come out with an entire sentence containing several big words without his face being slapped even once. He couldn't remember the last time he'd stopped talking because he _chose_ to, not because Moe had decided to shut him up with a well aimed crack across the chops!

Clarence however, seemed completely unimpressed. "Just put it down there, that's a good fellow," he sneered.

Larry nodded. "Cert'nly, sir," he smiled. He went to put the mug down and deliberately knocked his hand against the table. The coffee mug tipped over and hot coffee splashed all over the tablecloth and Clarence's suit jacket. The gangly young man shrieked like a girl and pushed his chair back, staring down at his suit and the steam rising from where the coffee was slowly soaking in. "What kind of an idiot _are_ you?" he shouted, causing several customers to turn around and stare at him.

"I don't know. How many kinds are there?" grinned Larry. He then stuck two fingers in his mouth and blasted out a whistle that made the other customers clap their hands over their ears. "Cleaning service required for table 2!" he cried.

Moe burst out of the kitchen with his mop bucket and cleaning equipment. "Cleaning service for table 2!" he echoed as he dashed through the shop, dodging around people that were milling about and elbowing the ribs of those who weren't quick enough to get out of his way.

"What is going on?" Agnes demanded. Her face was a picture of horror at the ruckus being caused. She glared furiously at Larry, who just shrugged.

"How should I know?" he said. "I'm just the hired help."

"Oooh! Why you..." But Agnes didn't finish. She was too busy glowering in Moe's direction.

Moe slapped his cloth down into the puddle of coffee in front of Clarence, spraying more of the steaming liquid over the young man's suit. "Hiya, Toots!" he beamed at Matilda, who smiled sweetly back at him.

"Hello, Moe," she said, bashfully, remembering what had happened in the cleaning closet.

"How dare you talk to the staff as though you're friends with them!" Clarence snorted.

"May I remind you, Clarence, that I am 'staff' too?" Matilda replied. "In fact, I've been 'staff' for more years than I could care to remember!"

Clarence bristled. "Well, I've never heard anything more ungrateful. If it weren't for your Aunt Agnes being generous enough to take you in, you'd have been out on the streets the day you became an orphan. Count yourself lucky that my father won't be firing you once he's in charge of the shop."

Matilda was so enraged she thought she might start crying tears of pure molten lava. "My _Uncle Edward_ looked after me," she hissed in a dangerously low tone while Moe carried on slapping the cloth all over the spilled coffee, carefully listening in. "The _true_ owner and proprietor of this _family_ business!"

"Hmph," sneered Clarence. "The old fool had it coming to him."

Matilda's eyes flew open. The blood froze in her veins. Moe stiffened in anger. He ceased wiping the table for a fraction of a moment- then, with his jaw set tighter than he'd ever felt it in his life, he flicked the cloth out sharply and caught Clarence under the chin with a loud snap.

"**OW**!" Clarence shouted. "Watch what you're doing, you clumsy oaf!"

"Believe me, I'm watchin'," Moe growled in a low, ominous tone. He made as if to repeat the action and Clarence's hand instinctively flew up to his chin, where a raised, red welt was already forming.

Aunt Agnes marched over and pulled Moe around by the shoulder. "You're fired!" she stormed.

"You can't fire me, princess. _I quit_!" Moe picked up his mop bucket full of dirty water and tipped the whole thing over Agnes Forshaw's head. Water cascaded everywhere while Mrs. Forshaw screeched like an enraged harpy inside the upturned bucket. Moe then picked up a dessert spoon and clanged it repeatedly against the bucket's metal side. The resounding noise was like some bizarre discordant symphony dreamed up by the denizens of Hell itself.

The other customers began milling around in horrified fascination, but not many of them decided to leave the shop. They were too curious to see what Agnes Forshaw had done to require this kind of treatment. They began whispering, and from what Matilda could hear, some of them were delighted to see Agnes stripped of her unearned sense of superiority. This cheered Matilda up no end, and she felt her heart swell at the sight of Moe, all five feet four inches of him, giving her upper crust Aunt a taste of her own bitter medicine.

Larry began clapping out a beat in time to Moe banging on the side of the bucket. Then for some unknown reason he tried to do a Russian dance and promptly fell over on his backside. Matilda and a few customers laughed at him sprawled out on the floor, and then several helping hands reached out at once to pull him to his feet. Everyone cheered him on when he immediately resumed dancing.

Curly came out of the kitchen with a saucepan and a wooden spoon and began marching around the shop, beating on the saucepan in time to Moe's bucket bashing. Soon there were customers clapping in time and cheering the three Stooges on while Matilda sat at the table, her eyes wide and bright, watching the antics of her unique and wonderful new friends as they entertained the crowds.

Eventually Clarence managed to break through the laughing melee and yank the bucket off Agnes Forshaw's head. The snooty proprietress of 'Beautiful Buns' was revealed, and it was not a pretty sight. Even Moe shrank back in horror at the look on Mrs. Forshaw's face. Her skin was covered in purplish-red blotches of pure rage, all the way up her jowly neck to her ears. She was so livid that the string of pearls around her neck visibly shimmered as she seethed. Her once perfectly coiffed hairdo was now a flattened wet mess from the weight of the bucket and it straggled around her face and in her eyes, more wild and tangled than Larry's.

"Look!" giggled Curly. "Two porcupines!"

"You mean one porcupine and one water rat," Moe replied, staring pointedly at Mrs. Forshaw. "What's the idea, anyway, dragging Matilda out of the kitchen to sit with this powder puff?" He jerked his thumb at Clarence, whose lips flapped indignantly with no sound coming out. "Don't you know she works harder than anyone else around here?"

There was a low murmuring among the customers.

"That's right, ladies and gents," Moe said, turning around to address his audience. "Before we came along, this poor creature was slaving away all on her own back there. Everything you see behind that counter is a result of Matilda's hard work. Nothin' to do with Gorgonzola here."

One of the women customers suddenly spoke up. "Why, you're the little girl that used to sit on the counter when it was Edward's bakery," she said, her hand going to her mouth. "I remember your little legs swinging as you handed cakes to the customers and took their money for your uncle."

"Sittin' on the counter, eh?" Moe folded his arms and looked at Matilda with merriment dancing in his eyes. "I'll bet that was some sight!"

Matilda blushed furiously. "I was only ten," she said, shyly.

"This place oughta be called 'Matilda's'," said Larry. "I never seen no-one work so hard in my life!"

"Never seen no-one?" Moe rumbled. "That's a double negative."

"No it ain't not," Larry retorted.

Moe slapped his face sharply. "Oh, a _triple_ negative!"

"Ow!" said Larry, rubbing his face, resigned to the fact that everything was back to normal. Well, normal for the Stooges, anyway.

"It's true though, folks," Moe went on. "I know it's hard to believe, but we've only worked here for a day. Matilda's the one who..."

Suddenly there was a smell of smoke and an ominous rumbling sound from the kitchens.

"N'yaa-aa-aargh," said Curly, blinking and waving his arm out towards the kitchen.

"What the- ?" muttered Moe.

The explosion took everyone by surprise. The kitchen door blasted outwards and everyone was thrown back, hair streaming out behind their heads and eyes squeezed shut against the forcefield. A man staggered back against the hat rack and three hats landed in a pile on his head, one on top of the other. A woman was blown right out the front door, landing in a sitting position at a tiny outdoor table. On the table in front of her landed, in quick succession, a saucer, a cup, a stream of tea which landed right in the cup, a plate with a cinnamon swirl landing in the dead center, and finally a napkin, a fork, a spoon, a vase with a flower in it, and the check. With a smile, she adjusted her hair and started eating. Curly was sent spinning on the spot like a top, and as he '_woo woo woo'ed'_, his arms windmilled around and around, slapping poor Larry repeatedly across the forehead. Meanwhile, Matilda was blown out of her seat and right into Moe's arms. "Ain't _this _a blast?" he proclaimed, and then wrapped his arms around her so tightly that she could hardly breathe. And finally, the mop bucket that Clarence was still holding was blown out of his hands, landing back on Mrs. Forshaw's head with such a loud clang that Mrs. Forshaw was knocked to the ground, senseless.

Curly ran to Clarence and lifted his arm up like a prize fighter. "Good woik, champ!" he grinned.

Moe let go of Matilda and appeared beside Curly. "Come _aaannn_," he growled, pulling Curly away from Clarence by the ear. "Let's go see why the kitchen exploded."

Curly lunged at Clarence one more time before Moe succeeded in pulling him away. "R-r-r-uff, **r-r-r-ruffff**!"

The Stooges, Matilda, Clarence and several curious customers all barged their way into the kitchen, piling up in the now doorless doorway. "Spread out!" snarled Moe, slapping faces indiscriminately, but making sure that none of the faces was Matilda's.

In the corner of the kitchen the chickens were now featherless, smouldering and covered in ash, flapping their stubby wings and clucking more dementedly than ever as eggs piled up underneath them like a little mountain.

"What blew?" said Curly, surveying the smoking wreckage of one of the ovens, behind which was a gaping hole in the wall.

"The sky blew," replied Larry, looking up at two small holes in the ceiling.

"Yeah, I know the sky blue, but what _blew_?" Curly said again.

Moe pointed at the broken oven. "The bread rolls! Remember? When they went down the back of that pipe!" He stepped closer over a pile of twisted trays and peered through the raggedy hole in the wall. "Hey! What's through there?"

Clarence rushed forward to try and stop Moe from poking his head through the hole, but quick as a flash, Matilda appeared in front of him. She blocked his way with her feet planted apart and a look of sheer defiance on her face. "Spread out!" she shouted, and then dealt him a hefty, resounding slap across his fine boned, pale-cheeked face. The sound of the slap was so loud that one or two of the lady customers put their hands over their eyes, afraid they might see a grown man cry.

A cheer went up, and Moe looked around in delight. "That's my girl!" he said, proudly.

While Matilda and the customers restrained Clarence, Curly and Larry joined Moe in peering through the hole in the wall.

"Looks like an office," Moe observed. "Look, there's a busted safe!" Putting his hands down onto the other Stooges heads to steady himself, Moe climbed unceremoniously over them and squeezed himself inelegantly through the hole. "Hey! I'm in the antiques shop!" he realised, after standing up, dusting off and looking round.

"Why, that's breakin' and enterin'!" Curly said, aghast.

"Did you see me make that hole?" Moe growled, too far away to slap Curly.

"They was your rolls that went down the pipe," Curly insisted.

"Be quiet, or I'll roll _your _pipe!" Moe yelled.

Stumped, and therefore speechless, Curly could only blink and look inwards at the machinations of his own tiny brain.

Moe stooped down in front of the busted safe and reached in for some documents that were scattered inside. He scanned them rapidly, discarding them one by one on the floor. "Whew," he whistled. "Would you look at the prices of some of this junk?" He dropped another document on the floor. "Queen Anne chair, Queen Anne chair, how many chairs did that old broad have, anyway?" Moe carried on musing to himself when suddenly he stopped. His eyes scanned rapidly over the piece of paper in his hands, and then his mouth dropped open in shock and amazement. He read the words twice, three times, before he turned to Curly and Larry, who were staring expectantly at him, eager to know what he had found. "It's Edward Forshaw's will!" he exclaimed. He gripped the edges of the paper tightly and stared at it in awe, his blue eyes reading the same words over and over again until they had fully sunk into his brain.

"The will she didn't think existed," Larry uttered.

"Yeah," said Curly, gleefully. "The will she thought was a won't!"

"Uncle Edward's will," Moe repeated softly, in an almost hypnotised whisper. "Wait'll Matilda sees _this_!"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

A deathly hush settled over 'Beautiful Buns'. Ghostly tendrils of wispy smoke continued to drift around near the ceiling and the occasional piece of plaster crumbled away from the hole in the kitchen wall with a dry rattle as Matilda's trembling voice began to speak.

"'The Last Will and Testament of Edward James Forshaw.'"

Matilda was seated at one of the tables which Moe had kindly righted for her. He had even picked up a vase that had survived the blast and placed it in front of her when she sat down, inserting a battered, droopy flower into it for decoration. Around the table stood an impressive crowd of people consisting of the remaining customers, a representative of the law to oversee the reading of the will, the owner of the antiques shop (who was horrified to think that his simple offer to look after some valuables for Agnes because she didn't have a safe at the bakery had come to _this_), the weaselly Clarence Erickson and finally a thoroughly befuddled Agnes Forshaw who was still recovering from the incident with the mop bucket. Between Agnes and Clarence stood a tall, imposing policeman who had come running across the street at the sound of the explosion, and next to them stood three firemen from the local fire station who had raced around the block in a fire truck with bells clanging. Behind Matilda's left shoulder stood bushy-haired Larry, with Curly close beside him. Behind her right shoulder stood Moe, his white janitor's overalls blackened with soot, quietly bristling with menace like a bulldog guarding its owner.

Matilda wiped the corner of her eye. Her fingers began to tremble as she continued reading and Moe reached down and held onto a corner of the document to steady it for her.

"I, Edward James Forshaw, of 2776 Abernathy Street, being of sound mind, declare this to be my final will." Matilda swallowed nervously, and Moe patted her shoulder.

"Go ahead, Toots. Don't be scared."

Matilda took a deep breath and began reading again. "I hereby bequeath 'Forshaw's Bakery' and all of its assets to my most beloved niece, Matilda Jane Forshaw."

Everyone gasped. Curly, realising he wasn't wearing a hat of his own, reached up and plucked the hat off the head of the gentleman customer standing next to him and clutched it solemnly to his chest.

Matilda's voice cracked slightly as she went on. "In addition, I also leave her my house and my beloved pony, Wilberforce." Matilda's breath hitched. She glared up at Agnes. "You sold poor Wilberforce to that awful friend of yours with the spoilt children. I want him back!"

"Oh, a horse thief, eh!" growled Moe. He joined Matilda in glaring at Mrs. Forshaw until the snooty ex-proprietress of 'Beautiful Buns' was forced to to look away, although there didn't appear to be much in the way of regret in her expression of discomfort. It was more that she was upset at being caught lying, cheating, stealing, and now horse rustling.

"Don't worry," said the policeman, who had a stern but fair demeanor. "If that's true, then we'll get your pony back for you, Miss Forshaw." He placed enough emphasis on the name 'Forshaw' to make Agnes squirm and seethe.

"Did you hear that, Toots? Not only that, you also got the house," smiled Moe.

"I heard," replied Matilda, looking gratefully up at Moe. "To think- Agnes was always telling me that I was lucky to be able to continue living in that house after my Uncle died, and all the while it was _mine_!"

Clarence sniffed unpleasantly. Agnes muttered something under her breath. The policeman tightened his grip on their collars so subtly that no-one noticed Clarence going blue as his breathing was cut off.

"There's an addendum at the bottom," Matilda said.

"A whatchum?" asked Curly.

Larry slapped him. "Don't you know what an addendum is, pelican?"

"No!" Curly pouted. "Do you?"

"Tell 'im what an addendum is," Larry said, turning to Moe.

"Pipe down!" Moe hissed, shaking his fist at Larry and Curly.

"It's an addition to what my Uncle had already written," said Matilda. She held the document up to Moe. "You read it," she said quietly. "I don't think I can go on."

Moe gently took the document from Matilda and began reading aloud. "In the event of my untimely death, I wish it to be known that my beloved wife of over twenty years, Agnes Myrtle Forshaw nee Fenker, has been having a long-standing affair with a former friend and business partner of mine, Mr. Stanley Erickson. Therefore I leave her nothing. She is to vacate my house immediately upon the disclosure of my will. She is not to inherit the business or any part of the business nor profit from the name of Forshaw in any way, shape, or form, not now or even in the future. Should she do so after the disclosure of this will, she shall be in breach of the conditions of this will... and so on and so forth," Moe growled, staring even harder at Agnes Forshaw with eyes like two glittering diamonds. "Looks like your husband knew all along what a two timing skunk you were."

"How dare you talk to me that way!" Agnes blustered.

Moe left Matilda's right side, pushed past a couple of customers who weren't quick enough to move, and stood so close to Agnes Forshaw that she had to take a step backwards, bumping into the policeman as she did so.

"Officer! Restrain him," she complained, as Moe pressed even closer, his face a mask of barely concealed rage.

"Sorry lady, I'm too busy restrainin' _you_," the policeman told her in the strongest New York accent she'd ever heard.

"So," Moe said to Agnes. "Finally we get to see all your dirty laundry." He lifted his chin and spoke through gritted teeth. "How do we know you didn't bump the old man off?"

"Uncle Edward wasn't old," said Matilda. "He was only fifty three."

"It's an expression," said Moe. He turned back to Agnes, his lips curled in a snarl. "There's a word for women like you, but I ain't gonna say it in public. Let's just say it begins in 'dirty' and ends in 'double crosser'."

"That's three woids!" said Curly, still clutching the customer's hat.

"I'm feelin' generous," Moe retorted. He had not taken his eyes off Agnes once in all that time, and she was beginning to look quite ruffled. "So, did you? Bump off the old man?"

Agnes drew herself up in a vain attempt to intimidate Moe with her height. It didn't work- he just raised his eyes until he was standing right under her chin, glaring up at her, looking more like a tetchy bulldog than ever. "No, I did not," she sniffed. "He was snooping around after Stanley, trying to play Sherlock Holmes. He had a weak heart to begin with, he found out something he shouldn't have done, and his one and only heart attack was fatal."

A shocked murmur went around the shop. Matilda's face went pale. Larry squeezed her shoulders reassuringly and watched her carefully in case she fainted.

Agnes looked down her nose at Moe. "I called an ambulance, of course, but it was too late. What's the point of trying to raise the dead?" she said, nastily, and Moe could have sworn that she snorted right in his face. It made his blood boil so hotly that he thought he might start whistling like a steam kettle through his ears.

"What did he find out?" Matilda asked. She tried to get up out of the chair, but Larry gently held her down, wanting to protect her from the poisonous atmosphere emanating from Agnes Forshaw nee Fenker.

"That Clarence is my son," Agnes said, triumphantly. "Mine and Stanley Erickson's."

Clarence smiled, his teeth showing ratlike in his head. Matilda screamed in horror. The customers began babbling in a mixture of shock and outrage. The policeman looked as though he wanted to take out his nightstick and crack Agnes and Clarence's heads so hard that their skulls broke. The Fire Chief gripped the handle of his axe as though he wanted to join in with the punishing.

"Edward and I couldn't have children of our own," Agnes sneered. "Obviously it wasn't _my_ fault."

That was more than enough for Moe's ears. Grimacing with rage, he bunched up his fist, drew back his arm and prepared to drive it forward. The crowd gasped and put its collective hands over its eyes.

"You're not going to hit a lady, are you?" Agnes taunted him.

"No," said Moe. "I'm gonna hit _you_."

The whole place held its breath in horrified anticipation. Moe let fly with all his might, but right at the last minute his fist changed direction and smacked the unsuspecting Clarence full pelt on the side of his jaw. Clarence didn't even know what had hit him as he slumped like a rag doll to the ground. Moe stepped back, rubbing his smarting knuckles and breathing heavily.

"How dare y...!" Agnes didn't even have time to finish her sentence. Matilda came up beside Moe and walloped her Aunt with a teapot. The teapot smashed on Agnes's purple-coiffed head and the snooty ex-proprietress went down, landing in a crumpled heap on top of Clarence.

Her son.

Matilda turned to Moe, her face a picture of horror and despair, and pointed down at the unconscious Clarence Erickson. "Does this mean that, that..._thing_...is my _cousin?! _She wanted me to marry my cousin? I've heard of keeping it in the family, but that's ridiculous!" Matilda almost choked on her outrage as Moe put his arms around her to steady her.

"He ain't your cousin, sweetheart," said Moe, soothingly. "He's nothin' to do with your Uncle, and Agnes ain't a bloodline Forshaw, remember? Never has been and never will be." He patted Matilda's shoulder a little awkwardly, uncomfortable at showing his genuine affection for her in public. "You're the real Forshaw, Toots. You're the rightful owner of this place. You don't need to bother with street trash like them any more. You got everything that was comin' to you." Moe nodded at the policeman, who, along with the fire chief and the owner of the antiques shop were dragging the two miscreants to their feet. "And so did they."

Matilda finally stopped struggling against Moe and allowed him to hold her while they and the other two Stooges watched everyone dispersing around the shop, talking in excited low murmurs among themselves. The overwhelming reaction of the customers was that Matilda had been treated terribly badly and deserved a chance to make it on her own now that 'Beautiful Buns' was rightfully hers. They vowed to return to the bakery as soon as the damage to the kitchens was fixed and the shop had reopened under a new name. It seemed that none of them had really liked the name 'Beautiful Buns'. None of them wanted higher prices just to be surrounded with snooty décor and 'real' silverware and a social climbing, snobby proprietress that looked down on the staff and bossed people around. They just wanted a nice, local, friendly place to buy their basic loaves of bread and have a cup of unpretentious coffee. And if the cakes were nice, well then, that was a bonus.

"Just how Forshaw's used to be," one lady commented with a smile. "When you used to sit on the counter, swinging your legs. My, you were adorable!" the lady reached out and pinched Matilda's cheek.

Moe chuckled gently to himself. "If you bring back _that _feature, you'll be overrun with customers," he murmured into Matilda's ear.

"Nothing doing," Matilda replied, pressing her cheek happily against Moe's. "I'll be too busy running the business to be sitting down- on the counter or anywhere else for that matter. I'm determined to put this place back to the way it used to be!"

Moe hugged Matilda tightly, finally able to bury his face in her hair and lose himself in her floury, smoky warmth. They and the other Stooges were finally the last ones left in the shop- Agnes and Clarence had been carted away to the police station and everyone else had finally returned to their daily routine. "That's my girl," he said, rocking her from side to side. "And you know, if y' need three bakers to help get you started, look no further than Yours Truly." Moe released Matilda from his bear hug and looked around at Curly and Larry. "And his truly, and _his_ truly. C'mere, ya big lugs!"

The other two Stooges joined the fray and Matilda found herself Stooge-hugged until her pips squeaked.

"How could I ever forget you boys?" she laughed, gaily. "I'll never be able to thank you enough for what you've done!"

"Even for destroying your kitchen?" piped up Larry. He tensed, expecting a slap from Moe, but it didn't come. Moe was too busy hugging and being hugged.

"Why certainly," Matilda nodded. "If you hadn't destroyed the kitchen, Uncle Edward's will would never have been found!"

Moe glanced at Curly. He flashed Curly a triumphant grin. "Don't forget, those were _my _rolls, Lunkhead."

"Hmmmmmm!" grumbled Curly, waving his arm out and waggling his fingers.

Matilda stood back and surveyed what was left of her shop. "The damage isn't so bad," she mused. "And the kitchen needed modernising, anyway. Maybe it's a good thing, having to rebuild and start again. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes."

"You got a cat in here?" Curly asked, wide eyed.

"No," said Matilda, puzzled. "Why?"

"You said a Felix," Curly protested as Moe loomed. "A Felix in the ashes!"

"_You'll _be in the ashes if you don't shaddap," growled Moe, and with that, he bounced the flat of his hand squarely off the top of Curly's head with a loud _slappp_.

"So I made a mistake!" Curly shouted.

"You _are_ a mistake!" Moe countered. Another slap rang out. Curly retaliated by hooking his elbow through Moe's and pulling downwards on Moe's arm. Moe jabbed Curly in the eyes.

"OWW-OOOOOOOW!" Curly shrieked.

As Curly and Moe continued bickering, Matilda continued formulating her plans for the future. She strode around the shop, humming to herself, picturing new layouts and designs. She stood in a patch of sunlight near the window and turned around. "Of course, I'll need a team of experts to help me with the repairs," she said, loud enough for the Stooges to hear her above the slaps and eyepokes ringing out across the room.

"Did you hear that?" said Moe, slapping his hand over Curly's mouth. "She needs experts!"

"Mmmm, mmmffghhh, mmmm!" spluttered Curly.

Moe removed his hand. "What did you say, mumblenuts?"

"I said, '_where are we gonna find experts_'?"

Moe thumped Curly in the stomach. "Get ahhtta here," he growled.

"Hey, Matilda! _We _could help you with your repairs!" Larry chimed out, with a big adorable grin on his face."You know- if you can't find any experts!"

"Yeah!" said Moe. "What do experts know, anyway?" He puffed himself up like a peacock.

"Why, that's exactly what I was thinking!" Matilda laughed. "Who needs experts when you've got friends? You boys fix my kitchen and you can have all the food you want!"

"Oh, boy!" cried Curly. "Free food! When do we start?"

"How about right now?" Matilda said, opening her arms wide.

"Free food? Right now?"

"Sure, free food," said Moe, picking up a cake. "Come and get it!" And he pushed the cake right in Curly's face.

"Mmmm! Maskapony!" Curly shouted delightedly, and licked a great glob of cream and frosting off his lips.

"Want more?" Moe grinned, squashing a raspberry tart on Curly's forehead. "How 'bout you, porcupine? You hungry?" He mashed a pink cupcake over Larry's face and Larry happily started eating the crumbs. "See? I make sure you boys eat, don't I?"

Matilda sneaked up behind Moe and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around in good faith and Matilda thrust a Mississippi Mud Pie straight in his face, covering him with chocolate goo. The other Stooges laughed uproariously, then fell silent as Matilda lifted her face and kissed Moe on his chocolate smeared lips. "You look good enough to eat," she giggled.

Moe blushed. Luckily no-one could see his reddening face under all that chocolate. "Okay, break it up," he demanded, gruffly. "You heard me, spread out!"

And with that, Matilda and her new friends, the eyepoking, face slapping, pie throwing Three Stooges, set to work rebuilding the Forshaw empire- under its rightful ownership this time.

End

* * *

**So that's it! It's done! Matilda finally got her shop and her man and justice was soived on Agnes Fenker :) As for Moe, well... there's no way I was going to split him and Matilda up after becoming so attached to them. Therefore I now create my 'MatildaVerse' for the purposes of occasionally writing a story where Moe has a girlfriend. (Fics containing Moe and Matilda will be clearly marked in the summary.) I'm a die-hard shipper and always will be! **

**Thanks everyone for reading and reviewing! Feedback helps so much. I have really, really enjoyed writing this, and I hope you enjoyed the story, and I look forward to writing more for The Three Stooges very soon :)**

**Arriverdoonchi!**


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